door behind her. If she slammed it closed the way she wanted, the reverberations would echo through the hushed corridors of power. Maybe even the senior partners in the penthouse offices would hear. Not that it mattered. Soon enough, everyone would know Angelina had just slipped down the corporate ladder, not up as expected.
Inside her tiny office, Angelina stalked between the two client chairs and behind her L-shaped desk. She flung herself into her chair so hard the force propelled her several feet into the side of her desk.
What am I going to do?
Springing back to her feet, she paced five steps across the area between the chairs and the combination of open shelves and file cabinets. The phone on her desk rang, and she snarled at the instrument. Angelina wasn’t about to answer, to have to talk …. But she glanced at the screen and recognized her father’s cell number.
Concern shafted through her. Daniel Howard had suffered a heart attack two weeks ago, then surgery. She’d flown to her hometown of Sweetwater Springs, Montana, and stayed by his side for a week before returning as soon as the doctor had assured her family that her father was on the mend. Four days ago, Angelina had returned to New York, not only to wrap up the big case she’d been working on for months, but also to attend today’s meeting where she’d thought to hear the announcement that she’d made partner.
She grabbed up the receiver. “Dad?”
“Hi, Angel Baby.”
She couldn’t get used to her powerful father sounding so weak. “How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”
“As good as can be expected, health wise. Now I want you to stop worrying about me.”
Easy for you to say . “I’m your daughter. I’m entitled to worry about you for a while longer.” She walked back around her desk and sat, deciding not to relate her bad news. She’d wait until he was stronger.
“Angel Baby, I need your help with something.”
She’d broken him of the childhood nickname when she’d gone through her independent adolescent stage. Then, in intensive care, he’d whispered the endearment when she’d first walked in…. Just remembering made her swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “Anything, Dad. Do you need me to come home?” As she spoke, Angelina thought through her schedule, what she’d have to do to leave again…
“I need you to fly to Florida, to Seeker’s Island.”
“What’s on Seeker’s Island?”
“Rafael Flanigan must sign some important documents.”
Oh, no! Anything but an errand that involved an encounter with Rafe Flanigan.
“Dad, I’m in the middle of a case.” Not quite true. She’d just closed the file. But there was always another case…another ten cases…whatever she needed to avoid Rafe Flanigan. “Sorry, Dad.” She tried to project some remorse into her voice.
“It will only take you a day. I’ve already couriered the documents. In fact, you should have them on your desk.”
She glanced at her desk and saw a big envelope sitting in front of her computer. “You’re not supposed to be working!”
He chuckled, the sound a pale version of his normal belly laugh. “I have an excellent assistant.”
“Then let your excellent assistant do it. James is more than capable.”
“James has a crippling fear of flying. He refuses to set foot anywhere near an airport.”
“Guess he’s not so excellent, is he?”
Her father ignored her snarky comment. “It’s just for the day, Angel. Fly down, get Rafe’s signature, courier the documents back to me, fly back to New York.”
“Can’t this wait?”
“The deadline is Friday.”
Five days!
“I’d planned to go myself, but then….” His voice turned urgent. “This is important, Angel. Millions of dollars and the fate of the Flanigan Ranch.”
“Why the last-minute rush?”
“Rafe Flanigan has ignored my previous letters and phone calls.”
Figures.
“Harry Flanigan stipulated in his will that if Rafe didn’t return home
Inside her tiny office, Angelina stalked between the two client chairs and behind her L-shaped desk. She flung herself into her chair so hard the force propelled her several feet into the side of her desk.
What am I going to do?
Springing back to her feet, she paced five steps across the area between the chairs and the combination of open shelves and file cabinets. The phone on her desk rang, and she snarled at the instrument. Angelina wasn’t about to answer, to have to talk …. But she glanced at the screen and recognized her father’s cell number.
Concern shafted through her. Daniel Howard had suffered a heart attack two weeks ago, then surgery. She’d flown to her hometown of Sweetwater Springs, Montana, and stayed by his side for a week before returning as soon as the doctor had assured her family that her father was on the mend. Four days ago, Angelina had returned to New York, not only to wrap up the big case she’d been working on for months, but also to attend today’s meeting where she’d thought to hear the announcement that she’d made partner.
She grabbed up the receiver. “Dad?”
“Hi, Angel Baby.”
She couldn’t get used to her powerful father sounding so weak. “How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”
“As good as can be expected, health wise. Now I want you to stop worrying about me.”
Easy for you to say . “I’m your daughter. I’m entitled to worry about you for a while longer.” She walked back around her desk and sat, deciding not to relate her bad news. She’d wait until he was stronger.
“Angel Baby, I need your help with something.”
She’d broken him of the childhood nickname when she’d gone through her independent adolescent stage. Then, in intensive care, he’d whispered the endearment when she’d first walked in…. Just remembering made her swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “Anything, Dad. Do you need me to come home?” As she spoke, Angelina thought through her schedule, what she’d have to do to leave again…
“I need you to fly to Florida, to Seeker’s Island.”
“What’s on Seeker’s Island?”
“Rafael Flanigan must sign some important documents.”
Oh, no! Anything but an errand that involved an encounter with Rafe Flanigan.
“Dad, I’m in the middle of a case.” Not quite true. She’d just closed the file. But there was always another case…another ten cases…whatever she needed to avoid Rafe Flanigan. “Sorry, Dad.” She tried to project some remorse into her voice.
“It will only take you a day. I’ve already couriered the documents. In fact, you should have them on your desk.”
She glanced at her desk and saw a big envelope sitting in front of her computer. “You’re not supposed to be working!”
He chuckled, the sound a pale version of his normal belly laugh. “I have an excellent assistant.”
“Then let your excellent assistant do it. James is more than capable.”
“James has a crippling fear of flying. He refuses to set foot anywhere near an airport.”
“Guess he’s not so excellent, is he?”
Her father ignored her snarky comment. “It’s just for the day, Angel. Fly down, get Rafe’s signature, courier the documents back to me, fly back to New York.”
“Can’t this wait?”
“The deadline is Friday.”
Five days!
“I’d planned to go myself, but then….” His voice turned urgent. “This is important, Angel. Millions of dollars and the fate of the Flanigan Ranch.”
“Why the last-minute rush?”
“Rafe Flanigan has ignored my previous letters and phone calls.”
Figures.
“Harry Flanigan stipulated in his will that if Rafe didn’t return home
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